The wiser folly — Inside the Classic

but that Lady Mary and the priest were past masters in keeping their own counsel when they chose. He would be a bold man who put any question savouring of impertinence to Lady Mary. For my part, I had sooner face a whole battery of artillery than have Lady Mary’s tortoiseshell-rimmed lorgnettes turned slowly upon me, her grey eyes glinting through them with steely courtesy. The courtesy was never absent, you may be sure, but then neither--on occasions--was the steeliness. Nor would it be well, if you wished to retain the smallest atom of self-respect, to question Father Maloney unduly. That soft tongue and speech of his could shrivel your complacency to the likeness of a withered leaf when you deserved it. And you may be very sure that, when they did shrivel it, you were left in no manner of doubt as to your deserts in the matter.

Lady Mary herself never ventured the smallest hint of an opinion as to whom the credit was due. In fact from first to last she kept a dignified silence on the whole affair, save when sheer necessity demanded speech from her. Her silence and dignity alone prevented it from sinking to melodrama, and truth obliges me to confess that it had more than once a distinctly suspicious flavour of that obnoxious quality.

But this is beginning at the wrong end of the skein, a proceeding which will indubitably result in a most fearsome tangle. Therefore, with your permission, I will break off and start anew.

CONCERNING THE VILLAGE OF MALFORD

“YOUR idea,” said John meditatively, “as far as I can elucidate it from your somewhat wordy discourse, is that I should accompany you to this exceedingly out-of-the-way, this on your own showing entirely remote, secluded, and sequestered spot, for the sole purpose of affording you amusement in your so to speak out of work hours.”

“That,” returned Corin admiringly, “is the idea _in toto_. It is marvellous with what ease and skill you have grasped and summed up the entire situation.”

“And might one be allowed to question what are the advantages to be gained from such a sojourn? What manner of recreation can the place afford? In a word, where do I come in?”

“Advantages!” Corin raised his eyes to the cobwebby rafters. “Heavens above! Isn’t my companionship an advantage? And for recreation what more can you desire than the contemplation of country lanes and wide moorland this glorious summer weather? Think of it, man! The earth ablaze with purple heather, the sea blue and golden,--breathing, living, colour. Anon there will be blackberries, great luscious clusters of blue-black fruit hanging ready for the plucking in every hedgerow. Again, I ask, what more can you desire?”

“I am not, I would have you observe, either an artist or a boy. Your inducements fail to move me.”

“My companionship,” urged Corin.

“The blatant conceit of the man,” sighed John.

Corin changed his tone, descended to wheedling. “Consider my loneliness,” he remarked pathetically. “From six o’clock--I can’t put in more than an eight-hour day--till midnight alone and unoccupied. Six hours!”

“Go to bed at nine and reduce the six hours by a simple process of subtraction to three, or play patience,” returned John unsympathetically.

“Inhuman brute,” mourned Corin.

He was a tall young man, thirty or thereabouts, clean-shaven, bronzed, grey-eyed, and with a thin hooked nose. His mouth, below it, was slightly grim in repose. But, when he smiled, you forgot the grimness, and smiled involuntarily in response. Also, you found yourself watching for the smile to come into play a second time. It had a curious manner of leaping first to his eyes in a sudden and illuminating flash. Deserting them, it passed equally suddenly to his mouth, leaving the eyes sad. It was a disconcerting trick, a baffling magician’s trick, and left you wondering. In the matter of dress he was fastidious to a degree. At the moment his attire was the most immaculate suit of London clothes, grey trousers, frock coat, and all the rest of the paraphernalia. His silk hat, exceeding glossy, reposed on a worm-eaten oak chair near him. He had removed a pile of sketch books and a bunch of dilapidated lilies to make place for the hat. They lay now on the floor.